I'll Be There Every Time
by FredNeverDied
Summary: In the immediate aftermath of escaping Malfoy Manor, Ron has some new discoveries to grapple with. "Several thoughts crossed his mind in that split second. Like, if he survived but she didn't, he would never forgive himself. And, Hermione meant more to him than anyone else and always would. And, most importantly, he was in love. Hook. Line. And Sinker. And then he was dragged away"
1. One Through Five

_**A/N**: This one is for my mama, because she is the coolest person I know. Happy Mother's Day you wonderfully crazy lady! On a side note, today is my one year anniversary of being a fanfiction author! Alrighty then, enjoy!_

I'll Be There Every Time

Ron Weasley was pacing in the kitchen, just outside the door to the guest bedroom at Shell Cottage. One hand was rapidly clenching and unclenching in a fist and the other, white and shaking, gripped his wand. Every now and then, he jumped when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye though he knew it was just a mirror across the room. But he couldn't help it, his nerves were understandably fried.

He'd just been arrested/beaten up by Snatchers, brought to the Death Eater headquarters of headquarters, and then, tooth and nail, fought his way out, despite the odds being stacked far out of their favor. Beatings were still stinging all over his body, images of Wormtail choking himself to death or Snatchers being blasted into walls and then sliding back down by ten feet still swimming behind his eyes. But worst of all, his ears were ringing with Hermione's screams as she was subjected to _Crucio_ after _Crucio_…

He leaned his forehead against the wall and forced himself to take a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the mouth... Those screams, he knew, were going to haunt him as long as he lived. Which was why he just _had_ to see her _right now_, to make sure she was safe and sound, in order for the blood pulse pounding in his throbbing head to slow down.

The click of the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Ron's eyes snapped up to see Fleur exiting, looking pale but pulled together. All things considered, Ron chose to take that as a good sign. She turned to him and addressed the unspoken question.

"She weell be fine," Fleur said calmly, "But she eez steel shaken up about eet so don't say anything…_stupeed_."

Ron knew that the part-veela had never liked him, but for once he didn't care about her disapproval. Fleur opened the door for him and stepped back into the kitchen.

Ron found Hermione half-sitting up in bed with her eyes glazed out of focus and silver tearstains dried on her cheeks, a result of the horrible torture she had just received from Bellatrix. Her arms were bandaged and the color was still drained out of her face but her shoulders were squared and her head held high. The set of her jaw was resolute.

He couldn't help but smile. That was his Hermione alright. Hurt but untouched. Frightened yet hopeful. Disturbed yet determined. And never going to let anyone break her spirit.

Ron had had withdrawals about killing going into the war. He knew that if worst came to worst, he would do what was necessary to protect himself or a loved one but had never completely accepted his own ability to kill.

That inability had ended an hour ago.

Not only had he become fully capable, but had been fantasizing over murdering Madame Lestrange with his bare hands for the past ten minutes. Because the thought of Bellatrix smiling and cackling as Hermione was subjected to yet _another_ Cruciatus Curse was unbearable. His skin prickled just thinking about it.

How could someone try to hurt _Hermione?_ All her quirks and mannerisms, ideas and memories, passions and disappointments: those just _weren't_ supposed to be harmed.

How could someone try to hurt _his_ Hermione?

At the sound of the door bumping open against the wall, Hermione looked up. When she saw Ron, her face lit up in a warm smile. Could it really be ten minutes ago that he'd thought she might die? Ten minutes since he was terrified he'd never see her alive again? In those horrifying moments where he'd been certain it was the end for all three of them; he'd made some surprising discoveries about her. But also himself. But—also—the _both_ of them.

Hermione _and_ Ron.

For instance: (1) that sounded _so_ right together. So really, _very_ right.

"Feeling better?" Ron asked quietly after a second.

"Yeah," she said, a wry smile twisting her mouth, "I've put up with worse, right?" (2) He loved her optimism and (3) her ironic sense of humor. He walked up to the side of the bed and perched on the edge of the mattress.

"Right," Ron muttered, "Like all those obnoxious, loud students running around in your library."

She grinned. "They're the same ones who don't appreciate _Hogwarts, a History_." Ron ignored the reproving mock-glare he was getting.

"Such uncultured dolts," he agreed solemnly. She giggled.

(4) He loved her laugh. She had no girlish titter or bell-like quality, but a real, genuine laugh that sometimes got a bit too loud in public. (And she would blush when strangers turned to look at her. And he would shake his head and nudge her elbow to show that it didn't matter what they thought. And she'd roll her eyes to thank him for not judging. And he'd shrug his shoulders because it was no problem and they'd move on. He always enjoyed those silent conversations.) But her shoulders always shook so hard when she laughed and her hair would get in her face. And she had dimples. Big smiley dimples.

(5) The dimples got their own point.

"How about you?" she asked. "Feeling better?"

Ron shrugged. His face, he knew, was puffy and red from where he'd been kicked in the mouth and punched across the face. Truth be told, his whole body was sore and his jaw ached terribly.

"Never better," he said jovially. Hermione shook her head as if she knew better.

"You've got a bad shiner there," she said. And then he realized she was reaching for his face. Ron jerked back involuntarily but her fingertips reached his cheek.

Gooseflesh erupted down his spine and up his arms.

For a crazy half-second, he considered grabbing her hand, scooping her up in his arms, and kissing her full on the mouth. (Would-be 6 through…_infinity_.)

"Thank you for taking this one for me," she said quietly, her fingers lightly tracing his ugly bruise.

Ron raised an eyebrow in question. Lots had happened over the past few hours—from their capture to their escape, it had been one panicked, painful, terrified blur.

"When you told…_her_ to leave me alone. To take you instead…" Hermione blushed at the weight that act carried and bit her lip.

Oh, right, _that_. How could he have forgotten _that_?

...


	2. So Close to Infinite

I'll Be There Every Time

_His eyes widened in horror as Bellatrix gave the order to separate Hermione from the two of them. He and Harry were to be taken to the dungeons—an oasis of safety compared to being left up here with that monster_—_while Hermione was to be left to the whims of a psychopathic horde of angry, dangerous Death Eaters. _

_Not if he could help it!_

_"No!" shouted Ron. "You can have _me_, keep me!"_

_Bellatrix hit him across the face; the blow echoed around the room. Ron's vision flashed black, then white, then black again._

_"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," Bellatrix said. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book."_

_Momentarily dazed from the punch, Ron was escorted away. Though his head was swimming, his eyes focused on Hermione just before she disappeared from his sight._

_Several thoughts crossed his mind in that split second. _

_One of them, ludicrously, was that her hair was the most disheveled he'd ever seen it. _

_Two, more importantly, was that Harry had better have a plan for busting them out of here. _

_Three was that this could very possibly be the last time he ever saw her alive again. _

_Four was that if he survived, but she didn't; he would never, _ever_ forgive himself. _

_Five was that he would have no idea what to do with his life if that were the case. _

_Six was that Hermione meant more to him than anyone else, always head and always would. _

_Seven was that he was in love. Uncontrollably and irreversibly._

_And then she was gone out of his view._

"That?" he said, smiling, "Of course, don't mention it…Not that it accomplished much."

Hermione shook her head vehemently.

"No Ron, that really, _really_ helped," she said, "I concentrated on that and kept, well, _anchoring_ on to it (_6) He was her anchor when she was afraid! Beat that Viktor Krum!_) and it kept me, well, _sane_ while she was, was…" Hermione hesitated for a moment, her eyes flitting away from him as the traumatic memories resurfaced, and Ron cut across her.

"Don't," he said firmly, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." She nodded.

"Thanks," Hermione said softly, but from the far away look in her eyes, Ron could tell she was still reliving her tortures.

"Hey," he said, raising his voice a little and dropping his head so his face was closer to hers, "It's alright now. You're safe and Fleur says you'll recover just fine. And don't worry, _she _is miles and miles away now; she won't touch you again. Harry and I will be there every time."

"But she's got it out for me now, Ron," Hermione countered bitterly. Though she was obviously trying to keep the fearful tremors out her voice, her words shook a few times at the prospect of another round with the Second-in-Command of the Death Eater force. "And we both know this isn't the last time we'll ever see Bellatrix Lestrange. It's only a matter of time now."

She seemed so nervous, like the second shoe was about to fall on them any second, he knew he had to say something that she could "anchor" onto again.

"Over my dead body," Ron growled, meaning every word.

She smiled slightly and her fingertips went from tracing the bruise across his cheekbone down towards his jaw line. _Merlin_, but it was taking all his self-control to not kiss her right now!

"Don't say _that_," she muttered. "It won't come to that." She was drawing patterns on his cheek now, designs that he was automatically committing to memory.

(7) She was letting him take care of her, which she hardly _ever_ did. He really did love it when she needed him. Usually, he was just trying to keep up with her.

"I'll be there every time," he earnestly said again, but omitting Harry. Her smile grew a little brighter.

"I'll be there too." She promised.

Of course she wouldn't let him completely play up the hero. He knew she was a more than capable witch (8) that was another point right there) and if she was declaring that she was ready for whatever came next, it meant she was feeling stronger. Which meant his time to take care of the Vulnerable Hermione was coming to its end. However, it didn't go unnoticed by Ron that she had, more or less, just promised that she had his back, for better or for worse: (9) She was incredibly loyal, even during the hardest of times.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," he said, trying (but failing) to ignore the disappointment in his gut because this time together was ending and he started to back off. But her fingers slipped back behind his ear and he froze. She was _holding_ him there. _Pulling_ him just a tiny bit closer. With her hand brushing into his hair. And his face extremely close to hers.

"Much better," she said.

He was daydreaming. Surely that was it. He was dreaming all this. Because that was a _line_. Sure Hermione didn't do lines, but that _was_ what it took to get his attention; he'd never been much good at subtlety.

He dropped his head just a fraction closer, enough that it could still be ruled an accident in the case that he really _was_ daydreaming, but she only pushed her hand father into his hair, the corners of her mouth quirking into another smile.

_10 through infinite, 10 through infinite, 10 through infinite…_

_Boom_.

The sound of the door slamming open would usually have been average volume but in the quiet room it sounded incredibly loud.

"Ron!" Bill started, out of breath; obviously not realizing what he'd almost walked in on, "I need you outside. That elf—Dobby—he didn't make it. Harry needs you right now. You need to come outside."

Ron blinked. He'd shot up into a casual sitting position the moment the door opened and he automatically stood up to follow his brother. He glanced down at Hermione, where she was determinedly looking away from him, color rising in her face. Color began to rise in his own but he kept his composure.

"Glad you're feeling better," he said again feeling slightly humiliated. Was she avoiding his eye because she was _that_ embarrassed? But maybe she just didn't want Bill or Fleur to catch on. That was more than understandable...

"Thanks," she mumbled, studiously examining her fingernails. Then Fleur bustled in past him with a tray of potions and said something about getting some privacy. Ron nodded numbly and made it to the door. As he turned to close it, he finally caught Hermione's eye.

She blushed deeper and smiled at him again but now there was something else to it. Like she'd been let in on a secret and was rather pleased with it. Either way, she was _not_ embarrassed by what had just happened. He tentatively returned the grin and shut the door, leaning back against it for a moment.

Had he been let in on the same secret?

He sure hoped so.

(10) He was in love with Hermione Granger. Hook. Line. And Sinker.

(11) He wouldn't have it any other way.

**_La Fin__._**


End file.
